


One Step at a Time

by Cellothebandit (melchellington)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melchellington/pseuds/Cellothebandit
Summary: Beau and Yasha dancing at Traveler ConIt starts out as a raucous, jumpy contra style dance then the music gets slow and they end up in each others arms stepping on each others toesEdited because I just re-watched some earlier episodes and realized they'd had parts of this conversation before.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91





	One Step at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a WIP but wanted to get it out of my brain and into the ether.

The third night of Travelercon brings the full face of Catha to light. It’s gentle illumination on the clearing where the majority of festivities are taking place is amplified by a small number of fire-lit stone braziers built just for the occasion and tall torches, designated for application of the light spell. The torches originally emitted a dull yellow light to match the firelight, but the colors are changing occasionally to fit their caster’s mood. Right now, they were a very gentle shade of blue. 

It was a perfect evening for song and dance. The stage area within the clearing sees a revolving door of musicians, troubadours and various performers pulled from both the Traveler’s followers and the Vo residents. The Mighty Nein casually observe these displays of talent as they discuss their next move. They certainly have to check on their Xorhaus but after that? Maybe a trip to Tal’dorei to bring Vilya home? 

Most of them are deep in the discussions when a new group of musicians take the stage. The singing is slow and low at first - a gentle voice that brings power to the quiet, accompanied by light fluting and deeply resonant strings. A few lines in though, the quiet gives way to a crash of percussion and fast strings. The melody is bright and strong, the voice is much faster but no less powerful. Like it’s own kind of magic, groups of semi-organized dancing circles form in the crowd. 

Yasha is only half listening to the discussion and seeing this raucous display quietly says to no one in particular, “Oh Molly would have loved this.” 

But Beau had recently started to focus a greater portion of her attention on Yasha and immediately abandons the discussion with the others. “Yeah, he would have.” They share a quiet moment of mourning before the sadness of Yasha’s face prompts a suggestion Beau never thought she would make sober. “Hey, we should go dance.” 

“Oh no, I’m not a good dancer,” Yasha answers, apprehension in her voice. 

Beau scoffs lightly, “Psh, you don’t need to be one for this kind of music. I mean, look at Jester.”

Jester had abandoned the relaxed conversation as soon as the tempo of the music changed. She’s dancing at the center of the crowd now, occasionally joining groups in the organized stepping but mostly just jumping and twisting on her own. 

Yasha sees this version of freedom and it is so entirely foreign to her. But she wants it, and with her friends around, it’s not as scary. 

Beau is standing over her now, hand outstretched. Yasha takes it easily, “Yeah ok, for Molly.”

They enter the fray with Jester, who is very glad to see them. They join hands and twirl in circles, and do their best to follow the patterns other groups of dancers are making. Arms together and over, weaving in and out, turning, trading partners. It’s a mess. They are bumping into each other and stepping on each other’s toes. They are sweating and smiling and the music plays on and on, with some gentle lulls between songs to catch their breath. After an hour or so of clamouring in this whirling dervish, the music gets gentle and low again. They expect another raucous crash but the dance floor begins to clear a bit, leaving only couples behind, gently swaying to the tune.

Jester lets out a long breath, “Oof, I’m pooped. I think I ate too many sweets earlier. I’m gonna go lay down.” 

“Ok,” Beau answers and the two of them stand awkwardly for a moment before Yasha asks Beau, “Are you tired, too?” Before she can decide what kind of answer she wants, Beau’s right arm is pulling her left hand to the place on her hip where she usually attaches her bag of ball bearings. It then moves to her left shoulder, and grasps it loosely. Beau brings their free hands together into a loose grasp. “No, not tired at all.” 

Yasha blush is slightly amplified by the gentle purple hue that the torch lights had been recently changed to. 

“I’m guessing you haven’t learned dances like this before either?”

Yasha shakes her head.

“Ok, just the basics then. You go right, well, your right my left. That’s one. Then forward, yup one step this way. That’s two. Then left, that’s three. Then back, yup, that’s four,” Yasha is in the leading position but Beau is easily pushing her in the appropriate directions and helping her count steps.They do this slowly for a few rounds until Beau quietly drops off. 

Beau had to learn dances like this in school but it was with boys and she had spent most of the instruction distracted by the foul odor that unwashed adolescent males typically carry. She wrinkles her nose at the memory. Yasha does not notice. She is quietly still repeating “1, 2, 3, 4” almost in time as they speed up slightly and staring at her feet. Beauregard is staring at her. 

Beau was not a fan of those grade school lessons but now, the calloused, pale skinned hand at her waist touches on the lesson she failed to learn as a kid. She wishes she knew what Yasha was like as a kid. If they would have been friends. Would they have run shirtless through the woods climbing trees and poking at bugs with sticks? Would they have dared each other to eat strange fruits off of plants that they were told are poisonous? Beau thinks she would have slugged any kid that made fun or Yasha’s funny colored eyes.

“Yasha, what kind of kid were you?” Yasha looks up suddenly, her feet stop moving entirely. 

“You don’t have to answer. I was just curious,” Beau continues. 

Yasha responds, “Oh, no I was just thinking of how to answer.”

“Here,” Beau gently brings Yasha’s other hand to her waist. She can’t quite reach her arms around the taller woman’s neck so she settles her hands on Yasha’s shoulders. “This might make it easier to think and dance at the same time.” 

She tugs to get them moving again. This time, it was no more than a gentle sway back and forth and Yasha internally answers that having Beau so close will definitely l not help her think and dance at the same time. 

Eventually she answers, “I guess I was just a regular person kind of kid. You know. Short and kind of weak, I mean compared to now -“

Beau tried to stifle a laugh but she was not so great at that lately. “No, I mean. I know Xorhas isn't a great place to grow up but what were you like as a kid? Were you super into bugs or trees or llamas, or something like that?”

“Oh yeah, of course! I knew that’s what you meant,” Yasha is a terrible liar.

“Yeah, of course,” Beau maintains the ruse.

“Well, yeah, the wastes of Xorhas are not a great place to be a kid,” Yasha answers emotionlessly but that didn’t prevent Beau from feeling like a bit of an ass for asking about something that was likely traumatic for Yasha. She stood there quietly, averting her gaze as much as she could and allowing Yasha the space to elaborate.

Yasha gives a bit of a forced laugh, “But it wasn’t all terrible. I didn’t really have parents since children were raised communally but I had caretakers that showed me how to survive. I had my lessons in fighting. I really enjoyed those, of course.” 

"Yeah, me too," Beau responds and they share a gentle laugh. Yasha pauses for a moment before continuing, her attention wanders again. “And, I had, you know, the occasional wildflower to admire..and Zuala, of course.”

They stop moving again. “Yeah, of course.” Beau drops her arms from Yasha’s shoulders suddenly and steps back a bit, making some more room between them but not enough to pull away from Yasha’s grasp. It was her turn to look away. 

Noticing this change in Beau's demeanor, the slumped shoulders and averted gaze, Yasha gently asks, “Sorry, did I say something wrong?” 

“No, I guess -" Beau pulls out of Yasha's grasp and starts to back away, "I’m just tired too.” Beau is a great liar, but is not trying as hard this time. “I guess, I’ll turn in, thanks for the dance.” She turns quickly and exits the clearing, heading both away from the other Mighty Nein members and in the opposite direction of where their camping spot is.

Yasha is stunned by this sudden turn of mood for just a moment before she runs after Beau. Overtaking her at the edge of the light line and the deep woods. “Beau, wait...wait,” she calls out when she’s close to the only slightly slower monk.

Beau stops and turns. The nearby light torch is glowing a light jade color which is reflected deeply in Beau’s robes. She blinks a few times then wipes both her eyelids. The jade color reflects across her cheeks for just a moment before it dissipates. 

“I’m sorry,” Yasha catches up and sees the tears continuing to form at the corners of her eyes. 

“It’s ok,” Beau sniffles slightly. “It’s not your fault,” she meets Yasha’s eyes for just a moment before looking toward the sky, tiny droplets of water occasionally streaming down her cheek, carrying that jade light with them. “Do you ever, just...want something so badly? Even though you shouldn’t. Even though there’s no way for…but it feels right and suddenly something comes along to remind you that it isn’t. Or can’t be.” Beau’s words are beginning to break, but she takes a breath and smiles through it. “It’s just hard, you know.”

Yasha steps closer to Beau, “I think I know a bit about that.” 

“Right, of course. Because of your forbidden marriage.” Beau’s voice is harsher than she expects. She opens her mouth to apologize but is cut off by Yasha as a realization strikes her “- is this, is this because I mentioned Zuala?”

Beau didn’t have to answer the question.

“I’m sorry, Beau. I didn’t mean -”

“I know. It’s dumb. I’m sorry, I’m overreacting.”

They both stand quietly for a moment. Beau's urge to leave increases just as Yasha breaks the silence. 

“Look, Zuala is...was my first love. She was taken from me and it was terrible,” Yasha paused, contemplating her next words. “But you ..and the others...helped me find happiness again, find myself, or at least a new version of myself. And now, when I think of her I can remember the good times better than the bad. She will always have a piece of my heart and soul but I think I am finally free of her ghost.”

“What do you think that means?” Beau's question was open but expectant. 

“I think it means,” she steps closer yet to Beau, uses her thick, calloused thumb to gently clear a final bit of water away from Beau’s eyes, then moves both hands back to the human’s waist. “Our streak with ghosts is improving.”


End file.
